Secrets of Love
by baobhansith23
Summary: Modern AU: After being sent to live with her grandmother and drunk uncle in Georgia, Katniss Everdeen learns the secrets of the man she thought she knew as she falls for the boy next door.
1. One

Secret No. One - No One Ever Said Life Was Fair.

* * *

It started with a dare.

If there was anything in the world I actually listened to, it was a dare. Dares are easy, especially since everyone seemed to be having a problem telling the truth lately, myself included.

"You sure about that?" I asked Gale as I took a steady sip from the red cup I had stolen out of his hand. He's smirking at me, and I couldn't help but give him my best smile in return. He doesn't know me well enough to know it's fake. He doesn't know me at all. Nobody does.

Not even me.

"Dared you, didn't I?" He's smirking wider now and I feel myself shaking in anticipation but that's all. I don't feel fear. I don't feel pain. I don't feel much of anything.

I turn my attention toward the ratty old bridge high above us. It's old, worn and a completely closed off. The prohibited sign only spurred me, along with the alcohol swimming in my veins.

The moon was full and for a brief moment, I heard a soft voice singing inside of my head. It was distant, barely there but it circled around my head. It seems the older I got, the softer the voice became. It's not like the last time I heard it was that long ago but my memory is starting to fail me.

How drunk am I?

I shake my head at these thoughts because they don't do anything for me. I grip the red cup and I head toward the old ladder. I hear the applause of Gale and Thom, along with the pleading calls from Clove.

I don't let go of the cup as I climb my way up. It takes me a few minutes compared to what it would usually take me due to my intoxicated state but I make it up the ladder and onto the bridge. There is cheering below me but I don't pay it any attention. Being up this high was exhilarating.

Freeing.

I gripped the rail and hold up my red cup as I let out a loud wail. Gale is telling me that I once again proved him wrong and that I should get my ass down but I don't want to. I want to stay up here. I sip the still half-full beer, I'm even surprised it didn't spill in my journey, and grip the rust rail tighter.

I turn my attention away from my friends and toward the other-side of the bridge. The side that is full of water. The bright white moon reflects so bright against the almost black river.

The voice in my head gets louder as I look at it. I don't want it to go away.

So, I walk closer toward the other-side of the bridge. People before me, long before my parents even, have said that the view from Sae's Milling Bridge was a sight for sore eyes. I find that these people are right. Even if they are rotting in some six by six foot box.

"Catnip!"

I ignore Gale's hollering as I grip the rail. I take another sip from my cup as I glance at the water once more. The tide is high. I wonder if I jump that I might make it.

I'm not my father though. I don't act on such thoughts.

I grip the rail tight but before I head back for the ladder, I hear it. I fucking groan at the sound because I'm prettying sure Officer Thread is out to make my life a living hell.

The sirens sober me but not enough. I know better than to look to see if my friends have bolted. Gale with his record and Thom just getting out of juvie. Clove might have stayed, pleaded for me even.

Whatever.

I plop myself down so my feet dangle over the ladder and wait. I hold the red cup in my hands, take another sip as I watch the flashing red and blue lights come until they are directly under me.

I smirk as I watch Officer Thread grab the black megaphone out of the car before he comes out of the car, standing directly below me. "I demand you come down this instant, Everdeen."

I stare at him for a moment before I shake my head. I take another sip from the red cup.

"Katniss."

His voice is irritated and it causes me to smirk. "Officer Thread? Is that you?"

Over the past year, Officer Thread has had the wonderful pleasure of bringing me in. Unlike Gale and Thom, I get taken in only to be released an hour or so after. Nobody wants to be the one to send the daughter of a suicidal man to juvie. Even though Officer Thread has tried more than once to get me there.

"Katniss Everdeen, climb down from the bridge."

I smirk wider as I drop the red cup. This causes Officer Thread to flinch and for his partner, Officer Cray to jump out of the car. "No can do, Officer."

I'm pretty sure both of them would rather me fall than deal with me for another summer.

I watch Officer Thread as he drops the megaphone toward the ground. The tightness of his jaw only spurs me on. It ignites the fire within me. I raise my hands and say, "Alright, alright. Don't get your panties in a twist."

I take my sweet, drunken time climbing down the ladder. Once my feet are on solid ground, I turn and face Officer Thread. His jaw is even tighter this close in person. I think I've aged the man ten years in only a few short months.

"You know the drill."

I stare at him and smirk as I spin around, tucking my wrists behind me. I hear the ping of metal and within a few seconds, it's clasping my wrists together. Officer Thread spins me around and pushes me toward the cop car. Officer Cray nods at me as he opens the back door and watches me climb in. I lean back against the hard plastic as the two sit in the car and talk into their walkie-talkies. "So, how'd you find me this time, fellas?"

I know from the back of Officer Thread's head that he's scowling at me for talking to him without using his title but I don't care.

"We got a call about a disturbance." Officer Cray answers as we start to drive off into the night.

"And something just spoke to me that it was you." Officer Thread finishes as he turns off of the old stone road and onto the pavement. I lean my head against the window and watch the lights of the town go by.

I'm drunk and I'm suddenly tired.

The only thing I regret is having to deal with this until mom gets off of her night shift at the hospital which won't be for the next three or four hours.

We get to the police station within the next fifteen minutes and I didn't even feel it in me to make a comment about Officer Thread's obviously dyed hair. We walked and I happily greet Portia, the dispatcher, as she sits at the main desk. Officer Thread takes off my handcuffs and places me into the familiar cinder-block room.

I yawn loudly and watch Officer Thread roll his eyes as he fills out my report. I smirk, stretch and shift into the metal seat. I can see the small TV Portia is watching and give in to the stupid reality show.

"I called your ma." Officer Cray says as he comes to stand before my small blocked room. Officer Cray is the oldest police officer and if I wasn't such a sod-ridden bitch, I would think he was decent old man. "She said it would be another hour."

"Cool." I draw out unenthusiastically as I shove my arms across my chest. I settle back into my chair and wait for my mother.

…

Back in the day, my mom was quite the looker. Her blonde hair was brighter, her blue eyes sparkled and her smile was one that could light up a room.

Now, her hair looked pale. Her eyes were so dull they almost matched mine and her smile was non-existent.

I sat up as I watched my mother walk into the police station around four in the morning. She was wearing her familiar lavender scrubs and I wondered how her petite frame even managed to get the door open.

She walked toward Portia and glanced at me before shaking her head and filling out the paperwork that's she had to fill out exactly twelve times within the past four months. Her and Portia talk briefly and I grow irritated at how she's purposely making me wait in here.

After another fifteen minutes, Portia makes her way toward me and unlocks the door. "Stop getting in trouble, baby girl."

I roll my eyes and walk around her and head toward the doors with my mother behind me. I walk toward the old beaten up black Volvo and throw myself into the passenger seat. Mom gets in quietly and starts up the ignition, not bothering to put it into drive. I fasten my seatbelt and rest my head against the glass and wait. I'm barely even drunk anymore but I wish I was.

"That's the fourth time this month, Katniss."

Her voice is soft and my ears perk up since it's the first time she's spoken more than three words to me in a given week. I bring my hand up and play with my nose ring before I shrug and fold my hands over my chest. "Sorry."

I see her shake her head and I roll my eyes. "I can't keep doing this."

Yep, neither can I, _mom_. She wonders why I do what I do, and even though I find myself wondering, all I want is for her to fucking say something. For her to fucking notice me. For her to-. "Wait what?"

She turns her head toward me and tucks a piece of blonde hair behind her ear. "I called your grandmother on the way here and - I think you should spend the summer there this year."

"Are you fucking joking?"

"Katniss-."

"No! This is my last - this is the last summer before everyone leaves for college." Everyone except me.

I'm furious. I sit up straighter and glare at her. I only have on grandmother and that's Margaret Everdeen, my dad's mom.

I haven't seen the woman in years. Not that I'm counting or anything. After dad married mom, the woman sort of cut him off. Only sending me stupid dolls until the age of fourteen, all of which remain in perfectly wrapped boxes in the attic.

"Katniss, you don't have a say in this."

"The hell I don't!" I glare at the woman who I look nothing like. I think it hurts her to look at me sometimes. I think it hurts her to even notice me. My dark raven hair like _his._ My gray eyes like _his. _

I glance out the car and fight the urge to run from the car but even the stubborn seventeen year-old I am doesn't want to hurt my mother like that. She lost the love of her life.

"Katniss, please don't be upset with me."

I ignore this. "When do I leave?"

…

"I can't believe you're leaving."

Clove sits at my window seat, dragging a long steady blow from her cigarette before she blows out the window.

"Especially the summer before we all leave."

I tune her out. Like I don't fucking know it's the summer before everyone goes to college. While my friends have the time of their lives, I'll be across the country in some stupid town in Georgia.

I shove pointless clothes into the four duffel bags I have as the permanent scowl sits on my face.

I haven't talked to my mother in four days and I could care fucking less. She's picked up another shift, so I've only seen her for maybe five minutes total during the span of those four days. However, she made sure to hand me my plane ticket the morning after announcing to me that I will be spending my summer in Rincon fucking Georgia. The hangover didn't help either.

I run a hand over my eyes and fall face first onto my bed. I would like nothing more than to fall off a cliff right now. I don't see how my mother has the right, or any right, to tell me what to do.

She doesn't even take care of herself, how in the hell does she have the right to tell me what I can and cannot do? I feed myself. I wash my own clothes. I went to my last year of high school without her help.

I hear the honk of a horn and groan louder into my bed before standing up and zipping up all my duffel bags. Clove flicks her cigarette out the window and grabs two of my bags.

I take one last glance at my room. The dark green walls covered in posters, handwriting and dream catchers. I close my eyes and turn away from it all, shutting the door tightly behind me.

Clove is waiting for me at the top of the stairs but I tell her I'll meet her downstairs in a minute. I watch as she leaves and then head toward the door that has been closed off for the past year.

I drop my two duffel bags and take a deep breath as I grasp the brass knob in my hand. I turn it all the way but I don't push it open.

I can't.

I drop my hand, pick up my bags and walk away.

I quickly walk downstairs and walk even quicker away from the house that raised me. Clove is chatting with my mother but I don't make much of a move to speak to her. I throw my bags into the open trunk, slam it closed and mutter a goodbye to Clove. We're both not that affectionate at goodbyes. I guess that's why we're friends or whatever. It's not like it matters now.

I sink into the passenger seat and watch my house as mom reverses from the driveway. Taking me away from her. Taking me away from _him_. Taking me away from myself.

The drive is silent. The radio isn't even on and I know my mother wants to apologize. I can hear her in my head, _'This is for the best, Katniss'_ or _'I'm just doing what your father would want for you'_.

All of it being bullshit.

The small airport seems deserted as mom pulls up to the curb. She's in her dark blue scrubs. I'm in my dark green crop top and high rise jean-shorts. She scowls at my piercings as I get out of the car but she knows better than to say anything to me now.

I head toward the trunk and reach for my bags. I set two on each shoulder and scowl as I reach for my boarding ticket in one of my bags.

I watch my mother close the trunk but I don't say anything to her. We stare at one another for a few minutes and I study her face.

The only resemblance we have is our petite frame and our heart shaped faces. My mother is more beautiful than I ever will be, even when she looks like a sunken excuse for a human being.

"Katniss.. I-."

I stare at her and watch as she tries to find the right words. I recall an old memory of her pushing me on a swing. Dad was in front of me and as my legs kicked higher, the more spaced out he looked. I wonder if even then he was - I stop my thoughts.

I glance at my watch and look back toward my mother. "I need to get going." She nods and doesn't muster up anything in return. I tell her goodbye and head into the terminal.

Even though it really fucking sucks having to go to a place I've never been with people I hardly know, I'm happy that I'm the one finally doing the leaving.

* * *

**A/N: Can't wait to hear what you all think! Much thanks to everlarkcheesebuns for being wonderful. **


	2. Two

Secret No. Two - Don't Forget To Smell The Primroses

* * *

The first thing I see is a man who looks just like my father. Well, a younger, slightly sluggish version of my father. His face is covered in dark scruff, his hair almost covers his eyes, his eyes that look just like my own.

He's holding up a sign with my name on it. I'm hesitant to walk toward him but it's not like I know anyone else, or know where the hell I actually am.

I walk toward him and once he spots me, he drops the sign and shakes his head. I narrow my eyes and hold tightly onto my four duffel bags. "Who are you?"

His eyes glimmer, like he's excited for the conflict in my voice. He smacks the sign against his thigh and looks at me. "Hello to you too, sweetheart."

His voice sounds like my father's. It throws me off and it makes me think of something else, something not within the walls of this crummy airport or this stupid state. I think about my birthday and how at midnight, my father would come into my room, chuckle in my ear and wish me a happy birthday as we ate cheese buns on my bed.

My birthday that he will miss this year.

"Hello?"

I glance toward the man whose eye match mine and shrug. "I'm not going anywhere with you if I don't know who you are. Where's Margaret?" His eyes narrow as I mutter out the name of my grandmother. He collects himself for a moment, as if he was prepared for something else. Something not like me, something better. Like everyone else expects. He turns his back on me and heads toward the doors. "Where are you going!"

He shrugs but continues to walk out the doors. The airport is small and I can see him open up the driver's side toward to a small pickup truck. I hesitate before gathering my pride and walking in the direction of the truck.

I scowl as I throw my bags into the bed of the truck before prying open the passenger side door to climb in. I see him nod and there's a slight smile on his face. "So, who are you?"

"Haymitch."

I roll my eyes at his response but freeze a bit as I stare at him again. My mind flashes to my father laughing into the phone calling someone by that name. His laughter rings in my ears and I hate it. I turn in my seat so I can look at Haymitch as he drives away from the curb. "How do you know Margaret?"

He pauses and turns his head for a second to look at me. "What's with the twenty questions?"

I don't hesitate with a response. "Well it's kind of strange that she sent you to come get me when I don't even know who you are."

He huffs, not in annoyance but in something else. "She's my - she's my mom."

He says this like it's mournful. I stare like he's just spoken in latin. My dad had a brother? How would I not know that? I mean, I haven't even left the state of California in the past seventeen years of my life but I think I would know if my deceased father had a brother. "So you and.." I can't say his name but Haymitch picks up on my suggestion.

"Half-brothers."

I stare at him and even though I'm masked in confusion already, it doesn't seem to bother him. It's like he doesn't even care that this is ground-breaking news to me. He just nods along to the radio as he taps his fingers against the steering wheel.

I suddenly want to know more but the lack of knowing scares me. I don't want to know these people better. I don't want to anything about this place. I'm going to stay until the end of the summer and I'm not going to return.

I guess I am my father's daughter after all.

…

We're in the car for almost an hour until we pull into the city limits of Rincon. The city sign is pale from sunlight and is slightly bent in at the bottom.

We pass what I assume to be the main street of town, covered with bricks and ivy. There's a shoe store, an apothecary store, a bakery and other small stores scattered around. It's all small but everyone seems so lively.

I almost smile at a small girl gazing into the bakery. Her face is pressed up against the glass and if I listen hard, I hear her soft laughter. I gaze into my lap the rest of the drive through town.

We drive for another fifteen minutes before we pull onto a small road. The truck jumps up and down on the pot holes and I feel like I'm being tossed into the air with every second that is passed before Haymitch pulls into the first house on the right.

To say the house is beautiful would be an understatement. It's an old style home with white panels and large willow trees in the front yard. There's a large wrap around porch with hundreds of flowers growing around it as well.

I smile at the primroses. My father always told me that primroses were his favorite flower while katniss was his favorite plant. I always thought it was a strange combination but as I stare at the primroses now, I can't think of a more beautiful flower.

"Well, we're here."

I don't bother with a sarcastic remark. I climb out of the car in awe. Everything is so alive here. Everything is in full bloom and it makes my chest burn with a sense of familiarity.

I turn my head and look at the house to the left of this one. It too, is a beautiful house but it's covered in dead plants, with ivy crawling over the front of it. "Who lives there?"

Haymitch follows my eyesight and turns his head toward the house. When he turns back toward me, he's glaring. "Don't bother the boy."

I narrow my eyes. "All I asked -."

"And I said don't bother him." Haymitch grumbles out as he shuts his door.

He treks of toward the house, leaving me behind in his wake. I stare at the other house before I reach into the bed of the truck and pull out my duffel bags. I turn my attention toward the house before me and let out an aggravated sigh.

The second I reach the stairs leading up toward the porch, the front door opens and a small, petite woman comes out. I know it's my grandmother from the pictures I've seen here and there but seeing her in the flesh has a strange affect on me. Her hair is a dark gray and sits in a thick messy bun on-top of her head. Her eyes are wide and her smile is genuine.

I frown.

"Katniss." Her voice is soft like a poets but strong like a politicians. She has strong lines around her mouth that remind me of the laughter lines my father had. I wonder what makes her laugh and I wonder what makes her cry. When she heard the death of her son, did she cry? Why didn't she come to the funeral? Why didn't she come to see me?

I climb up the stairs and narrow my eyes at her as I take in the house. "Where am I staying?"

She blinks a few times before she puts her lips together and nods as she gestures for me to enter the house.

I step in cautiously, as if I'm a prey and the house is a predator.

It smells like flowers and a hint of honey. When you first walk in, you're in a small hallway that holds a flight of stairs and opens into a living room on the right side and a dining room on the left. I assume the kitchen is straight ahead but I don't move there. I take in the hundreds of picture frames on the walls. I see my father. I see Haymitch. I see me.

There's only one picture of me though and it's when I was seven, I know this because my front teeth are missing. I'm sitting on a swing that doesn't look familiar and my father is pushing me with a giant smile on his face.

I didn't realize I had walked up toward the photo until I hear someone clearing out their throat. I turn my head and see Margaret standing behind me with a small smile. It's the same smile I saw at the funeral almost a year ago.

It's something that channels whatever I was feeling, into straight anger. Anger for being here. Anger for being without my father. Anger for being me.

"Where is my room?"

Margaret gestures up the stairs and I quickly take them up until I'm at the second floor. I refuse to look at the pictures on the wall. I stand at the top of the stairs and wait for her to walk ahead of me. She walks toward the end of the hallway and she slowly pushes open a large white door.

I follow her in and take in the room. There's a twin sized iron bed in the corner, a desk in-front of the large window and a small dresser next to the closet. It's bigger than my room at home but I don't mention this.

"I hope the room is alright." Margaret says in that soft voice again. "I asked Haymitch to open the windows to air it out." She shakes her head as she goes to open the windows herself. "He must have forgotten."

Like everyone forgot to mention to me that Haymitch was my uncle. I want to throw that into Margaret's face but I don't. I drop my duffel bags and take in the room a bit more. There's a framed picture of primroses again in my room. She must really love primroses.

The bed is covered in an old-looking quilt and beneath my feet is hard wood, like the rest of the house.

"Can I-."

"I'd like to be alone." I mumble out as I keep my back toward her. "I had a long day."

"Oh, alright." Her voice cracks slightly but if I wasn't paying attention to her every move, I wouldn't have caught it. "Well dinner will be ready around six."

"Okay."

I hear her make her way back into the hallway. I don't say anything and I don't turn and face her even though I can feel her eyes on the back of my skull. "I'm happy you're here, Katniss."

I spin around at that. I don't say anything in return as I close the door.

…

After I finish unpacking, I venture out of the house. I passed Margaret preparing something in the kitchen and Haymitch laying on the couch, without making a single sound.

I headed down the porch and stopped to look at the primroses once more. Their season might be about done but they still bloomed with such vibrancy. I picked out one and placed it inside of my braid, something I had always done before as a kid.

I head out onto the sidewalk and walk toward the small main street of town I saw earlier. It's not as crowded as it was when I arrived but it is still lively. People laughed from store stoops and embraced when they saw someone on the street.

I kept my eyes trained to the cracks in the sidewalk as I listened to the laughter of nearby children and car alarms.

I don't know how I ended up at the bakery but I did.

The large brick building had an even larger glass window. It read in soft yellow cursive, _Mellark's Bakery est. 1962. _I don't think as I walk into the bakery. It was colder than it was outside but not overwhelming different. Everything looked worn but comfortable.

It smelled like cinnamon and nutmeg.

"Hey'ya. What can I get you today?"

I turn my head from studying the drawings on the walls toward the front counter. A petite pregnant girl stood proudly behind the cash register with a green apron hung right under her belly. Her hair was perfectly curled in dark ringlets and her sea-foam eyes shine as she smiles at me. "Um, I don't know."

She looks at me strangely but still keeps a genuine smile on her face. "Well, let's see what we have left." She walks around the back counter, into the bread baskets and the display case. She names me everything with a smile. When I stand silent, she rubs her belly with a sad expression. "Sorry about the lack - Peeta only comes in late er- well, early I guess, to make everything. I would offer to make you something but I can't bake to save my life."

Her rambling makes me smile a bit. I nod my head toward her as I walk toward the display case. I tilt my head as I see one small piece of bread in the back corner. My heart skips and my eyes cross over themselves. "I'll have a cheese bun." I mutter out, winded in a way as I step back from the display case quickly.

The girl smiles at me in approval. "Want me to warm it up?" I nod and she happily moves toward the small toaster oven. After she sets it in, she turns toward me with another smile. "Cheese buns are my favorite. Peeta makes them all from scratch."

I don't respond to this.

"So, where are you from?"

I shrug as I walk toward a picture on the wall. It's a soft sketch of a meadow full of dandelions. There's a girl in the middle who's laughing with her head toward the sky. It makes me envious. The freedom the girl has and the laughter on her face.

I turn back toward the girl and shrug once again. "I'm staying with Margaret Everdeen for the summer."

She halts quickly. Her smile drops softly into the smile I've seen everywhere. She knows.

"You must be…Katniss?"

I stare at her mouth. That haunting smile. The feeling in my stomach like I don't belong resurfaces and all I want to do is run away. I want nothing to do with this place.

I don't belong here. I don't belong anywhere.

When she turns to get the cheese bun, I quickly place two dollars on the counter before walking away from the bakery.

My head is spinning in circles as I make my way toward the street again. I see smiles of people who tried to reassure me that my father was sick for a long time. I see smiles of people who couldn't muster a single word to a sixteen year old girl who had lost her father. I see the smiles of people who didn't even know me.

I bump into people as I try to run away from the town. I shove my way around laughing children, although their laughter never quite reaches my ears. I begin to run faster once I see the emptiness of the sidewalk.

My pulse quickens and if I had felt anything, I may have felt my legs awaken from a long slumber of running like this. I push myself to keep going, to keep running until I reach the familiar house surrounded by primroses.

Margaret is sitting up on the front porch, a glass of lemonade in her hands as I approach her. My legs are wobbly as I walk up the front porch. She sips her lemonade before speaking to me. "I saved you a plate but I won't after today. Dinner is at six, no later."

I narrow my eyes at her as I cross my arms over my pulsing chest. "Whatever." I head to reach for the door but her arm shoots out quickly, grabbing me by the elbow.

"Katniss -."

I shrug her off. "Why didn't you tell me about Haymitch? Better yet, why didn't anybody tell me about Haymitch? I had the right to know if my-." I can't say the word aloud again. It catches in the back of my throat like a piece of dry food on a hot summer day. Why can't I say this one fucking word?

Margaret narrows her eyes in confusion, like she doesn't understand the word's I have just spoken. It becomes clear to me that she's just as confused about Haymitch, as I am. "No one ever told you? I thought -."

"Just whatever." I mumble out as I stare at my old sneakers against the old porch. "I'm tired, I just want to go to bed."

She mumbles something into her lap as I turn my head slightly toward the old decaying house next to us. There's a soft flash of blonde hair before the curtain falls back into place. I turn back toward Margaret, who is staring out onto the road. I should say something to her but I don't have the energy and I don't really want to hear what she has to say.

I open the screen door and run up toward my room. Away from her. Away from Haymitch. Away from cheese buns with sad smiles.

As I reach the top of the stairs, a picture catches my eye. My father is holding up a younger looking Haymitch. Both of them have matching grins. As I stare at the photograph, I think about the man I don't even know and the man I thought I knew.

* * *

**A/N: The response I got for this, was amazing! Thanks so much for everything! For the sake of this story, Katniss's birthday will by on July 8th. Thank you! Also, send some love to my wonderful beta/friend, everlarkcheesebuns. **


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